Authors: Leen Elle
"Whoever said I was even going to give you your dinner? I told you that if you continued talking to me so rudely you wouldn't get anything, and I intend to stand by that statement."
Nathaniel grinned, "Whatever you say."
"What in the
world
are you smiling at?"
"You."
"But why?"
"You're so naïve," Nathaniel chuckled, "You see, I've been sick my whole life, and I know quite well how people react to illness. Right now, although you are
quite
angry with me and are also a rather stubborn girl with an undeniable temper, who doesn't want to give in and hand me my supper, you will. You don't
think
you will, but you will. If you didn't give it to me you'd feel terrible afterwards."
"I would not!" Gail retorted, "I'd feel perfectly content with myself, because I still say you don't deserve it if you're not going to cease insulting everything!"
"Hold on a moment, my dear, I'm not finished yet," Nathaniel said in a rather pleasant tone.
"Don't call me dear!" Gail screamed.
Nathaniel smiled calmly, "Whatever you wish. Now, back to what I was saying, you'd feel terrible afterwards. I suppose Ol' Charlie's already told you my life story, and he also probably told you what my nurses tells everyone- how uncertain my life is and how you might wake up tomorrow and find me dead. Am I right?"
Gail tried to ignore, but finally made a small nod.
"All right then. So, say . . . oh, I don't know. Say I was to die tonight, perhaps."
"Oh, don't say such a thing!" Gail urged, for although she may not like him it was still a terrible statement to hear coming from an invalid.
"It's purely hypothetical, though, of course," Nathaniel replied lightly and continued, "So I'm dead, you find out in the morning, and
you
remember that you never gave me my dinner. Just imagine it, now, will you? How would you feel knowing that
you
were the one who chose to let me starve the night before? Terrible, that's how you'd feel. And then the doctors would come and they'd perform all those silly tests on my white, lifeless body and they'd announce that I had died from my mysterious sickness, whatever it is, as well as a lack of proper nourishment. Now," he grinned, "How would you feel? How would you feel knowing that you had killed me? No matter how much you may hate me, you would feel absolutely, positively terrible. You'd probably live the rest of your life regretting what you'd done, knowing that you alone were responsible for my death. You couldn't bare it, a young girl like yourself. You'd probably go insane. But you could never tell anyone. How would that sound? How could you tell one of your precious sisters that you refused to give a dying man his dinner?"
Gail couldn't speak. She'd gone white; realizing that everything he said was absolutely and utterly true. Nathaniel looked delighted, for he, too, knew that he'd gotten to her.
Gail walked forward and set the tray on his lap quietly, keeping her eyes from meeting his because she couldn't bear to see his triumph.
Finally, she found her voice and asked meekly, "Are you really dying?"
Nathaniel shrugged between bites, "Everyone's dying. I'm dying. You're dying. We're all dying! You may last a good many years longer than I do, but you're still going to die someday."
Gail nodded. Then, looking down at her shoes, she asked, "Are you afraid of dying? I mean, do you worry about it?"
Nathaniel shrugged once more, "I used to worry a little, but I've learned not to. It would really be a waste, if you think about it. You can't live everyday of your life fearing death or you'll never really be able to live, will you?"
"No," Gail agreed, "You won't."
"How old are you?" Nathaniel questioned, with a sudden interest.
"How old are
you
?" Gail returned.
"Eighteen."
"I'm turning fifteen next week."
"Really?
Well I suppose I should wish you a happy birthday now then."
"Why?"
Nathaniel seemed to think this was a silly thing to say. He replied as though it were an obvious answer, "Well, I just didn't think you'd be coming back in her anytime soon."
"Why not?"
"Why not?
Well, number one, I don't think you like me very much. Number
two,
I don't know why you'd wish to spend your birthday in a small, stuffy room like this one when you could be up in the fresh, cool air. And number three, I really don't get many visitors.
The only person who's set their foot in this room since I've arrived, besides you, is Charlie.
No one wants to spend time with someone who's ill. It's just not very fun, I suppose. It's been this way my whole life, so don't feel bad about it or anything."
"Maybe if you were a little nicer, you would have more visitors."
"No one's even been in to say hello. They don't know if I'm nice or not."
Gail felt sorry for him. She didn't want to, for he
had
been very rude earlier, but it was impossible. She couldn't even imagine living a life like his. He'd been living in beds his whole life. He hadn't been able to run around or even just sit out in the fresh air since he was a child. He had no friends. And most importantly, he had no promise that he'd awaken the next morning. What sort of life was that?
Nathaniel suddenly spoke again, pulling her out of her reverie, "Thank you for the dinner, Gail, and happy birthday."
"Oh," Gail muttered, still lost in her thoughts, "Thanks. Well, er . . . good evening."
"Good evening," Nathaniel replied, now too engaged in his meal to even look up.
Gail left then, feeling as though her head was in the clouds.
Festivities were occuring on deck for Gail's fifteenth birthday. Her sisters had prepared a meal full of her favorite dishes, which she ate eagerly. Afterwards, two of the sailors played music and sang while everyone else had fun dancing. Then, Mary brought out a large cake topped with strawberries as well as fifteen candles. Everyone crowded around and Gail laughed as she blew them out.
The rest of the night was a whirlwind of dancing and singing.
Almost all of the sailors crowded around Mary, asking for a dance. They seemed to have forgotten all about her fiancé, and Mary couldn't blame them, for she'd done the same. Although she missed Ethan terribly, it was easy to let him slip from her mind when she was surrounded by many handsome, earnest sailors. By the end of the night, she'd shared a song with each one.
Emy danced with Sawyer for the first few songs, but she was having trouble enjoying herself. Her eyes kept drifting over to Nora, who was standing in the corner looking foolishly lovesick. She was gazing over at Ben with a wistful expression, dreaming of what it would be like if he actually asked
her
to dance instead of Mary.
Emy finally succeeded in convincing Nora to forget about Ben for a bit and enjoy a dance with Sawyer, who quite willingly volunteered.
While Nora was occupied dancing with Sawyer, Emy gathered up all her courage and made her way over to the sailors waiting for their turn to dance with Mary. Ben was laughing over a joke Michael had told with a bright smile, his blond curls sat like a mop atop his head. Emy lost her breath, realizing why Nora had been so allured by him. But she was very determined and walked over to Ben as though on a mission.
"Ben?" she said once she'd reached him.
"Yes?"
"Could I . . . Could you . . ." Emy forget what she'd been meaning to say and struggled for her words, "C-Could I talk to you for a moment?"
"Of course," Ben nodded, following Emy a few feet away from the other men.
"I-I'm sure you know my sister Nora," Emy began, fidgeting with her thumbs, "She's, er, she's right over there," Emy pointed to Sawyer and Nora and Ben nodded, "Well, she, er, she rather wanted to dance with you tonight and I was hoping that you might possibly . . ."
"Ask her to dance?" Ben finished for her.
Emy nodded.
"Well, I suppose so," Ben said, "Do you want me to do it now?"
"If it's not too much trouble."
"'Course not."
Ben strode over to Sawyer and Nora and tapped Sawyer on the shoulder, "May I interrupt?"
Sawyer looked a bit bashed, but stepped aside, while Nora was so taken aback her mouth fell open. She couldn't even get out a word, and let Ben lead her around the floor. Time seemed to have sped itself up and before Nora knew it the song was over and Ben had left her after thanking her for the dance and telling her she was a marvelous dancer. Nora managed to thank him as well, once he was out of sight she bounced up and down and ran over to embrace Emy.
Gail danced with Rory and Zooey a bit, but then decided she was rather sick of it; she'd never been a huge fan of dancing. Instead, she sat beside Jess and he taught her how to play his fiddle. By the end of the night, she could only play a simple song, but Jess assured her that he was willing to teach her more any time she wanted.
Sara enjoyed a few dances with Michael and Jacob before she realized that Charlie wasn't even taking part in the festivities.
Thanking Jacob for the dance, she walked over to Charlie, who was leaning on the ship's railing and looking out at the sea.
"Having a good time?" he asked.
"Of course I am," Sara replied, "Why aren't you?"
"What makes you say I'm not?"
"You haven't danced once yet," Sara accused.
"Yes, I know, I just . . ."
"Would you like to dance with me?"
"Oh, I'm really not very good," said Charlie, "You wouldn't have much fun."
"But how will I ever know?"
Charlie sighed, "Why don't you go dance with one of the sailors? I'm sure at least one is in need of a partner."
"I don't want to dance with them," Sara refused, "I already have! I want to dance with you."
She grabbed his arm and pulled a rather unwilling Charlie over to the other dancers, setting her arm on his shoulder and waiting for him to take her free hand. When he didn't, she had to move his arms herself. Then she tried to get him to dance, but Charlie had told the truth; he really wasn't very good and had absolutely no coordination. He kept stepping on her feet and muttering sorry, but Sara assured him it was fine. She said she didn't care how good of a dancer he was.
As a blanket of stars filled the sky, everyone began to quiet down a bit. Emy and Nora were sitting in a group with five of the sailors, listening to their exciting tales of life on the high seas. Charlie was steering the ship while Sara sat beside him, enjoying a cup of tea. Mary sat with another group of sailors, giggling as they each tried to gain her affections by offering to do her favors.
Although she may be betrothed, Mary refused to stop being the flirtatious girl she'd always been. She would do so, she pledged, until the day she said her vows. After all, what was the harm as long as she didn't do anything she might be ashamed of later?